Author's Note

.｡｡*ﾟi hope you're staying safe and being kind to yourself! .｡｡*ﾟ

Warning: Mentions of drug use and sexual content (nothing explicit)

Love youuu 💗 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒆𝒏𝒋𝒐𝒚 ️

BELLEVUE 1897

It only took two days in Bellevue for the boys to fall back into old, familiar habits. And Jack was no exception.

For one night, they were pitiful angels with broken wings, battered and distressed, rescued from the flames of the hell they'd escaped. And for a moment, they weren't prisoners. They were innocent. They were kids.

The morning after Sophie visited, Jack had allowed himself to breathe. It was like seeing his sister – and Kloppman – gave him something to hope for. A chance of freedom. And the way Dr. Fuller pressed and questioned them about the conditions in the Refuge, Jack believed something would be done about it. It was a relief that someone over the age of nineteen gave a damn about him.

All that hope came crumbling down as the gravity of the situation sunk in. Sure, they were out of the Refuge, but that didn't mean peace. After all, they were still wards of the state, having broken the law at some point, and hadn't been legally discharged.

And some of the damage that had been done, Jack noticed, could not be swept away with a fresh bath and a clean bed.

Lion was back to begging for a drink, negotiating with physicians, saying he needed it for the pain. That it was the only way he could get better.

Alexei wasn't as subtle – demanding opium and threatening a terrified attendant with a scalpel to his neck. And though the staff managed to pull him away from the trembling man, Dr. Fuller was not the least bit doubtful of Alexei's goodness.

No Name hadn't said a word since they'd arrived, and seldom left his bed, curled up, staring off.

And Jack was craving laudanum more than ever. When he'd complained about it to Grim, the older boy didn't have any answers. It wasn't like Jack could just go down to the warden's office anymore.

Most alarming to Dr. Fuller were the propositions the boys made to his staff, so casual, yet so urgent. They promised they'd go without meals, scrub the floors, wash the windows, clean out the chimneys, shine shoes, withstand a beating. Anything.

It had gotten so out of control that, regretfully so, Dr. Fuller started injecting the boys with morphine each night to ease their discomforts and put them into a much-needed, restful sleep.

Jack recalled hearing Muggs one night, trying to coax a nurse into giving him cocaine. The others were knocked out from the morphine. Jack opened his eyes, having been awoken by cravings for laudanum, and could barely make out the outline of a woman in a matronly dress and nurse's apron, sitting on Muggs' bed.

They appeared to be in mid-conversation, all whispers and secrecy. Just from the tone of his voice alone, Jack could hear the charming performance Muggs was putting on. It was such a jarring contrast from his usual indifference. "You have to get me cocaine. I'm afraid I'll do something crazy like my friend. I don't want to hurt anyone," Muggs was saying quietly in his Brooklyn accent, usually so cold and calculated, now dripping with false reconciliation. "You want to help me, don't you, sweetheart?"

"You poor baby," the nurse cooed, brushing Muggs' face with her hand. "I'll see what I can do, but I don't know if—"

"You're married. Pretty lady like you oughta be treated right," Muggs observed, taking the nurse's hand, inspecting the wedding band, switching tactics already, not giving her time to think. Jack could almost see the cogs in Muggs' mind turning, watching him become an entirely different person in a split second. "Your husband's one lucky man."

It was unnerving to hear Muggs speaking so gently. It gave Jack chills.

The woman huffed. "The dirty bastard. For all I know, he's spending our earnings away at some dive in the neighborhood."

"That sounds awful," Muggs tilted his head, scrunching his eyebrows. "Doesn't he love you anymore?"

"I imagine he used to, but I suppose I've become old and dull. Nothing like those dance hall girls, Lord knows," she sighed, entirely ready to disclose her emotions to someone she barely knew. "I'm sorry, you probably don't care one bit about my tragedy of a union."

Taking her hand, Muggs pressed a kiss to it, staring at her. "Hanging on your every word."

"You're sweet," The nurse replied, and then faltered a bit, pulling her hand away, and coming to her senses. "They'll send you away if I'm caught in here with you like this."

Muggs made a 'tsk' click with his tongue, leaning closer. "You wouldn't kick me out without a kiss goodbye."

She giggled a bit, eliciting a slow smile from Muggs – one that didn't reach the rest of his face. "You know, I could make you feel real good," he mumbled. "Better than your husband. You just have to promise me one thing."

The nurse peered at him shyly. "What's that?"

Muggs licked his lips. "You have to get me cocaine. Just a little. Can you do that?"

"I don't know…"

"Yes you do," Muggs urged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, casting some sort of spell. "You want to help me. Just like I can help you."

Jack rubbed his eyes tiredly and squinted in the moonlight, not sure if what he was seeing was entirely accurate. Muggs' tattooed hand grabbed the back of the nurses' head, his fingers raking her hair as it unraveled from its updo, his lips grating against hers passionately.

The nurse straddled Muggs' lap on the bed, pushing him against the bedframe as she kissed him deeply.

Gaping at them, Jack wondered if he might still be asleep. Surely, this wasn't real.

She pulled away, panting. "Can I..."

Muggs' eyes shone a bit watery in the moonlight, and Jack thought for a split second he was about to cry. It was very strange. "You do whatever you want. Just get me cocaine."

Nodding, the nurse crawled back, settling between his legs, undoing his trousers quickly. She dropped her head out of Jack's view, and Muggs exhaled raggedly, leaning back on his forearms.

Jack shook his head. Not even he was that desperate for laudanum.

Muggs opened his watery, lifeless eyes, his heaving chest rising and falling as he met Jack's unsettled stare. He slowly raised a finger to his lips, silencing Jack. His expression, only moments ago so enamored and compassionate, now reflected boredom and resignation. Even more disturbing, Jack noted, was the way Muggs was quietly moaning, eliciting an impression of euphoria while his face remained entirely stoic. Mimicking a sensation.

Jack averted his gaze and swallowed hard, trying not listen to Muggs' heavy breathing.

The next morning, it was evident to Jack that Muggs had gotten his fix. His eyes looked red – the pupils dilated. He was fidgety, rambling to Alexei, who for once was the stone-faced one. Until of course, Jack saw the way Alexei's eyes widened at something Muggs whispered to him, resulting in somewhat of a laugh.

"That easy?" Alexei asked incredulously, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half-grin. "Think she'd let me smoke if I asked as nicely as you," he laughed.

Muggs never said anything to Jack about it. Jack had been expecting a threat, a swear to secrecy, but it never came. Maybe Muggs didn't care. Maybe he was waiting.

That didn't stop Jack from sharing the story with Grim and consequentially, Tide, who was within earshot. The three sat on Grim's bed, whispering as a physician tended to No Name's wounds a few beds over.

"I don't understand how he can just be one way and then be another so fast," Jack was saying, shaking his head. "He sounded so…so…nice."

Grim didn't look shocked at the revelation, maybe slightly uneasy, and Tide almost laughed. "Are you new? He's a smooth talker when he wants to be, I'll give him that," Tide said, shaking his head. He raised an eyebrow at Jack. "Ain't a bad idea though. You got any good lines you can use on her?"

Jack looked confused. "What?"

Grim rolled his eyes. "Jesus Christ, Tide," he grumbled, looking away and examining the bruises on his forearm.

Jack flinched when Tide grabbed his right hand, inspecting it carefully. "Start biting your nails. You know what to do, right?" He asked, meeting Jack's bewildered expression. Tide curled Jack's index and middle fingers, bending the others down. "Start slow, and use your thumb—"

"Tide, no," Grim replied sharply, making Tide release Jack's hand.

Tide shrugged, looking from Grim to Jack in earnest. "I'm just saying, if Jack wants laudanum, flirting with Florence Nightingale might as well be a goddamn Trojan Horse."

"Alright, Tide, enough with the ideas, you're scaring me," Grim cut him off, giving his friend a warning glare. "Leave the kid alone. I'm serious."

Tide held up his hands in surrender and gave Jack an apologetic look. "Just trying to help."

"I'm not sure how much longer I can go without it," Jack muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest. Changing the subject, he looked over at Calico's empty bed. "Any word on how he's doing?"

Tide and Grim followed his gaze sadly. Grim shrugged, leaning back. "Nothing yet. Figured we would've heard if anything happened."

"You mean if he died?"

"Yeah," Grim answered Jack's question with a grave nod. "I mean, if he died."

"Fuller said there isn't much he can do, not with Calico in this state," Tide whispered. "I heard him talking about it earlier."

"Son of a bitch," Grim cursed, rubbing his eyes, somehow feeling like it was his fault. "He should've been sent here weeks ago."

Jack's eyes widened. "But surely there's something he can do. I mean, they've got better medicine here."

Grim nodded at him. "I can't picture Calico dead," he said aloud, a tremor in his voice. "Hell, I've known him for five years."

"You remember that time we played those Duane Street dopes in poker?" Tide said fondly, eliciting a small laugh from Grim. He nudged Jack with a smile. "No offense."

Jack shrugged.

"Calico was the king of bluffing," Tide went on, retelling the story to Jack. "Even better than Grim. Cleaned almost the whole house. It's a wonder any of them could pay rent that night."

"He split the winnings with us," Grim added, shaking his head. "I never ate so good in my life. Best dinner I ever had."

"And breakfast, too," Tide said, staring off in melancholy. "I don't know any other starving kid who would buy his friends two meals."

"You're right. We never paid him back for that," Grim replied in good humor, his smile fading.

Jack knit his eyebrows together in strained optimism. "He's not dead. Why are you talking about him as if he's dead?"

"Jack…" Grim sighed, shaking his head. "He ain't going to make it. It's just a waiting game." He turned and rose from the bed, stepping around it and stretching.

"I'm sure Calico would want us to have hope," Jack said.

"Have you met Calico?" Tide mumbled with a frown.

"Hope ain't enough," Grim walked back over and sat by Jack's feet. "There's nothing we can do."

Jack was quiet for a moment. "But you can't let it beat ya," he retorted, echoing Grim's old phrase. "Ain't that was you always say?"

Grim let out a deep breath, forcing a slight, reassuring smile. "Sure."